On Black Velvet Sky
by ajremix
Summary: Byakuya returns from work. Hisana makes him comfortable. Rated for vague sexual implications. And lots of metaphors.


Old piece written for the bleachexchange on livejournal. And it has been pointed out by a reviewer that Byakuya was a captain _after_ Hisana died. Oopsies.

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On Black Velvet Sky

Light fluttered over her hands, pale fingers weaving the night. Hisana bowed her head, meditating at the gold threads that she pulled through the black velvet upon her lap. Needlework was engrained into her, the elegant and inspired craftsmanship kept her alive during the foreboding years in the depths of the Rukongai. The time spent to create these masterpieces kept her from living comfortably but the call of the thread still thrummed in her. She felt the grace of the cranes' flight in her mind, the gentle curling of clouds and a lone, withered tree, strong and alive upon the cliff side.

These creations, caught on cloth, were the only ones to welcome Hisana as she occupied the most unobtrusive corner, caught in the silk web of the Kuchiki household. The servants were as dutiful to her as they could be to any of their masters though sometimes she was chastised by the older servants.

"No, Lady Kuchiki," they'd tell her, "you needn't deal with dishes. That is for us to do."

"Lady Kuchiki, if you wished to bathe, please alert one of the servants. They will prepare your bath for you."

"You mustn't go out on your own, Lady Kuchiki. There are others to do the shopping."

"I'm sorry Lady Kuchiki. It isn't fitting for someone of my stature to be so familiar with you."

They were kind to her though in her heart Hisana felt herself no better than they. Try as she might, Hisana didn't feel herself fit to be amongst the noble women and she knew much of the family felt the same. And so she took to spending her days, threads and needles arched about her as she turned bolts into tales. She snipped at the thread and began to line the crane's crested head and flash of wings with red. On the velvet the sun was setting, lighting the clouds and tree on fire, making the tall grass glimmer.

Somewhere far from her Hisana heard several footsteps and the murmur of servants, eager to be ordered. She straightened under the weight of the velvet, watching the fine alabaster of the screen. A word was uttered, sharp, authoritative but weary. Hesitantly the servants acquiescent, shuffling respectfully away, leaving Hisana alone with the dark, candlelight and dignified noise.

She waited, listening to the shifts in the other room, extinguishing her only means of light as another flared in adjacent to her, scattering the dark creatures that lurked about, his shadow a striking display upon the thin wall. Slowly Hisana crawled to the door, placing her hand lightly on the frame, as if the act were a disturbance.

"My lord," she said into the partition at her lips, "Byakuya-sama. Do you wish to be alone?"

His profile turned, noble and sharp and she could feel his words resonate through the wood of the household. "Hisana. Enter."

Wood whispered in their grooves and Hisana knelt before her husband. "Byakuya-sama, shall I help you prepare for bed?" Though he didn't reply, the man paused enough for a grateful smile before he knelt at his table.

"I am afraid there will not be time for bed."

"But Byakuya-sama," the woman- like a bird bowing to the ground –reached out to brush her fingers against his twilight sleeve, "you must rest."

"There is too much work to be done."

"How terrible." But Hisana stood all the same, her hands sliding across the silk scarf curled around Byakuya's shoulders. "Do they care so little for their captains as to work one to death before he lasts his first year?"

Again he smiled softly, allowing her pull the material from him. He heard her fold it carefully, laying it reverently on the table. "A captain must be prepared to give all that he can to his division. He must never lag behind for even a moment. Even if that may mean working himself to exhaustion."

Hisana smiled, pale hands on the fine curve of his kenseikan. She unhooked them, brushing out the dark fall of hair with her fingers, watched how they twined together. "Byakuya-sama works so hard." She said softly. And in the lapsing quiet she worked, undressing her husband, disturbing him as little as possible. As he studied the papers before him she ghosted his proud captain's robe from his shoulders, making pointed touches to his elbows so that she may slip his arms free of his uniform and again to drape his sleeping yukata over his frame.

Dutifully she checked over the pristine uniform before placing the folds in the closet and even there the presence of Byakuya chased back the shadows. The wings of his bedding unfurled below Hisana's hands, smoothing and shaping it as surely as golden cranes. She worked to the rhythm of Byakuya's brush, the soundless wisps dictating the spread of the blanket, the strokes easing out the creases of folds.

The wick wore on, dancing shadows congregating about the room. Hisana stood behind her husband, running fine ivory teeth through thick midnight, Byakuya's hair lying soft in her hands. Light flickered in its well and Hisana brushed on, as mesmerized in the act of brushing as with the act of sewing; creating a beautiful masterpiece and watching it flow in her hands.

A hand came up and enclosed around her fingers and the handle in bone and skin and soft heat. "Hisana," the man said softly and then nothing else. Her hand brushed against his cheek and he kissed the fine knuckles, lips dry and gentle.

She loved him. Not as deeply as her heart wished, weighed down with her own failings and regrets- a netted heron crying for freedom beyond the flat cage of the fields –but she loved her husband dearly. It felt like down, the thickness of his hair as it pressed against her cheek. "Byakuya-sama," Hisana whispered into his ear, "come to bed."

Hisana drew him to the bed, drew him to her and Byakuya could not pull himself away. He marveled at her fragility and benign smile, at how her strength was in her kindness. He brushed back the wave of ebony silk from his wife- too good, too kindhearted –and pressed his lips to the underside of her jaw. He felt her flutter beneath his lips, his own heart fluttering in kind.

This was the woman he loved above all else, staking the pride of the Kuchiki on her lovely elegance. He worshiped her as he had nothing before. He knew not how to woo and respect a woman, knew only the propriety of his station but breached the precious etiquette of his forebears time and again for they did not make this moonlit skinned beauty happy.

She unfurled beneath him and Byakuya's hands moved over her, shadows flittering like a flock soaring over the land. He loved her till his heart broke and her heart broke to love him. But the joy and awe writ so clearly over him as he moved over her- every time so surprised that she opened herself up to him –gave Hisana the strength to believe she could truly love him. She believed one day her heart could bare its weight enough to let her love for him grow and strengthen.

The shadows grew and deepened, but they felt of warm velvet when they crawled over her skin, felt of wet tongue and moist sweat, smelled of heat and strained breathing and freedom they yearned to find in each other. Hisana tightened around him, desperate to feel his reassurance pressed against her as she cried softly. Her voice broke over the room like the sweetest of winds, fresh and clean and Byakuya couldn't seem to get close enough. He held her close, ached for her, the shape of her name filling his mind and his tongue.

A thousand wings crashed in Hisana's ears, eyes filled with the color of blinding bright gold and red, glowing so fast as to be white. Her heartbeat thrummed through her body, resonating with Byakuya's as they lay twined together. Hisana's hand slipped over the trembling strength of Byakuya's shoulder.

"My lord Byakuya-sama," like the whisper of trees, "you will be no less a man or captain if you allow yourself time to rest."

"My lady Hisana," like clouds drifting in wind, "there is not a man alive that could deny your wishes."

"You do me too much justice, my lord."

Softly Byakuya's stroked against her cheek and his love for Hisana could only grow as he tasted of her lips once more. "All that I would do if you but asked would go beyond justice."


End file.
